Unforgettable
by teardrops of a fallen angel
Summary: Emma vampire victum of a fate that lies with Ean VAMPIRE emmas protecter and Jeremy PAST LOVER-VAMPIRE HUNTER.A love triangle you won't want to miss.Between Jeremy and Ean to protect Emma from detroying herself,and the demon that curses her.


This is my first fan fiction, please review.This story starts off slow,please stick with it. It'll get better i promise.Thank you for your time.

Suggestions needed. :) PLEASE REVIEW. EJOY!

. : Unforgettable:

Massive, shadows engulfed everything they touched, as the night took, rein of all senses. The thick smog, levitated off the floors in musk, the atmospheric oxygen smelled of decomposed musk. The forest patched with moss, of black and green, was soft against my callused feet mingling with dirt. Just finishing, a long day of stripping cloth, in the iced over stream, of sludge and unmentionables was the duty given and finally I could wrap my chapped fingers hopeful to numb them for a moment longer. The night felt young against, my ivory flustered cheeks , carrying rags in a hollowed out bowl left splinters of a frightful sort, feeling a sticky, trails run down the corners and to the faithful ground. I have lived in the same moss engorged ever since I could it remember. Having only two neighbors' around certainly made life simple, and lonely. Living in a small place all the time, I hated it. The isolation always surrounds me like a fence. It has always been like this, well since, Mother left. Father says that she left because she had business affairs that came back, and she fated herself. I am not an ignorant child. She left. Everything always condensed into a small mossy forest unchanged. Father says that it's the forest that keeps me sheltered from what was and is beyond, the beyond he has described as a horrible place full of many evils and shadows that grabbed you in the late of night , full of scum, dirt, conniving imposers, full of men in cloaks that harmed and hunted silently for pleaser, as a place that was not to be trusted by any means and the punishment for trusting such people is deadly, fated to destroy morals and life's. It's sounded exciting and full of adrenaline, circulating through its veins. I have yet to experience that glorious feeling. The oaks and pines keep me confined and trapped in an outdated, lonely radius that could hardly pass for anything relatively quant. unfortunately; Father says that there is no need, he is a woodsmen, he makes furniture out of the oak, in the woods. Usually Father, gives me "women chores" as he calls it. Like washing clothes the creek and catching fish in the stream. The chores that mother usually did when she was here. Other than my miner chores I spend the countless hours looking at the birds pass by. Watch the sun rise and fall each morning and evening, and watching the lightning bugs come out of hiding and light up the house. I wish so desperately wish to be free.

Rocketing through the haze for self remorse, Father's shriek of horror, shook me senseless and dazed.

"Emma, get out here." His voice was faint but prominent. I dropped my daydreams aside and bolted for the front door. The rags of no importance, or significance. My stature strained to find his voice.

"What wrong? You hurt?" scenarios started jolting through my mind of what lied ahead. It was so hard to hear, muffles broke through the trees. Many grunts of struggle, mortal pain and grief emerged and carried in the whip like wind. "aaarghh" a deep husky voice bellowed in pain, enough to shatter ears.

"Emma, get out here now!" Pain was aggressively present in his tone.

'He's not far off, at the lake maybe' logicality was no friend of mine but greatly needed.

Running like a deer dodging ever encounter, the wind striking me with every step. Silently and faster than a light it's self I sprinted, stray black strands blurring the trees of ancestry that ran in front of me in an inconvenience to the race. My rags skimmed the rims of my calves and lined tightly against my sides. Running in the dirt for so long barefooted made them numb to rocks and twigs around. Dodging all of the trees swiftly one by one, feeling the wind bare on my face, the musk of dusk fresh on my breath, the trees and brush blending into a mutual black. Everything broke through the trees the picture came together. On the lake, Father was on his feet hovering over an olive green mass floating along the banks. A look of horror and disgust was definite of his face defining wrinkles in the creases of his forehead.


End file.
